


Prophetess in Training

by LaDonnaErrante



Category: Jewish Legend & Lore
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDonnaErrante/pseuds/LaDonnaErrante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serakh bat Asher shares some of the secrets of prophecy with Miriam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prophetess in Training

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zdenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/gifts).



> As I explored some of the kick-ass women of Jewish Lore for this fest, I became a bit obsessed with Serakh bat Asher, who is mentioned in Torah but whose character is developed in midrash and in jewish folklore from around the world but particularly in Persia. For those who may be less familiar with her, she is the immortal granddaughter of Jacob the Patriarch and is often the personification of Jewish history and memory. 
> 
> This first ficlet is based on midrashic portrayals of Serakh, while the next 2 days will be an original fairy tale in 2 parts!

An old woman watches as a young girl plays by the bank of the Nile, skipping stones in the muddy water.  
  
“Come away from the edge, Miriam. What good will it do you, eh?”  
  
“But I want to meet the girl in the river, Auntie.”  
  
“The girl in the water is you. Here, I’ll show you. It’s muddy, but do you see? There I am—an old woman and you just a little thing still.” They giggle. “Laugh all you like at an old crone, wrinkled and brown. Her beauty is gone and her days numbered, you say. What does she linger for?  Feh! My hair has gone wispy and white, it used to be thick and dark, just like yours you know.  But my voice is still sweet.”  
  
“Sing me a song Auntie Serakh, pleeeeaaaase,” Miriam whines.  
  
“Hush, child. Perhaps when we get home. Songs of prophecy are not for the open air in these times.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“You see there, in the distance, all the young men making bricks for the pyramids for that no-good pharaoh.” Miriam nods and they watch for a moment as the men work, trampling the stiff straw in the mud. One of the older men stumbles and falls. When overseer approaches whip in hand, Serakh, moves them along, hurrying them home. Miriam sees truth clearly enough, insisting that her mother put Moses in the Nile was proof of that; there is no need to further burden her with the brutality of bondage just yet.  
  
Instead, Serakh does comes easiest to her--she tells a story. “When my Uncle Joseph was alive, we’d have never stood for such a thing. But now our burden is great and the people do nothing. It won’t be like this forever, but they don’t believe it. ‘What can we do?’ they ask me. And how should I know? All I know is that someone is coming, someone will come. And that the G-d of Jacob will surely take note of us, but I keep my silence. A password is only as a good as its protector, you know.”  
  
“Abba says the Egyptians are too cruel, that no one can stop them. How can you be so sure?”  
  
“I don’t have the details. That’s not how prophecy works, you see. I don’t know who it will be or when they will come, or what we will do that will finally cause HaElohim to notice our plight. But I know that when whoever it is arrives, they will know the code.”  
  
“But who will it be? And when will they get here?” asks Miriam, her voice pitched high with exhaustion. They reach home and Serakh settles the child into her lap.  
  
“I told you already, child, I don’t know,” Serakh’s tone brooks no questions. “It might be soon, little one. I see things and I hear them. I watch and wait. I look and listen. And I heard you--you too have the gift, my dear. I heard you tell Amram not to heap sorrow upon oppression by separating families, and I watched you send your baby brother down the river, right into the home of the tyrant. And I knew then, as I know now, that you are brave. You are a sign of what is to come. And you too will carry the burden of the fate of our people.”  
  
Miriam begins to cry softly.  
  
“Shhhh, little one, don’t cry. It will be okay. I can’t tell you it will be easy, because it won’t. But it will turn out alright. Time for that song now, I think.”  
  
 _With a bitter courage you were born,_  
 _With divine love you shall pass._  
 _Make sweet the waters of your life,_  
 _Face your task with a new song._  
  
 _Tearfully shall you draw water_  
 _From the well of bitterness_  
 _Joyfully shall you draw water_  
 _From the fountains of deliverance_  
  
 _Bravely shall you draw water_  
 _From the sea of redemption_  
 _Lovingly shall you draw water_  
 _From the river of healing_  
  
 _With song and dance you will honor_  
 _The Gd of living waters._  
 _Adonai is your strength and song,_  
 _With your timbrel exalt Her._  
  
Miriam falls asleep in Serakh’s lap. She dreams of water like lighted windows and a song whose words are still forming.

 

 

Serakh bat Asher

 

 

Image Credit: http://www.oocities.org/mbenyaacov/serach.htm


End file.
